


What's Under There? (Underwear)

by zelda_addict



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Dean in Panties, Gen, M/M, Off-screen Relationship(s), as in they don't do anything except think about it, sensible panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_addict/pseuds/zelda_addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A claim from spn_masquerade, Round 3.</p><p>Original Prompt:<br/>"Cas or Sam has heard all about Dean's panty kink and has fantasies of Dean in sexy little lace and satin confections. It turns out Dean loves to wear women's underwear, but not the sexy kind - the big unsexy plain cotton covering everything up kind. Maybe even old-style bloomers. Give me crack, comedy, fic or art!"</p><p>I chose to go with Sam. (Sam and crack.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Under There? (Underwear)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a tribute to a sister of mine who was in love with "Under where?"/Underwear jokes.
> 
> Erotically-shaped mac and cheese is a real thing, but I cannot personally vouch for the taste.

“This is ridiculous, Dean!” Sam hissed to his older brother.

“No,” Dean retorted, “what’s ridiculous is you being all scared to walk into an adult shop.” He ignored Sam bristling at the comment. “I’m telling you, in a town like this, it’s probably the only hunting ground for a succubus.”

Since they had already been to all the bars and there were surprisingly no strip clubs, Sam bit his tongue and followed his older brother into the shop.

They had decided it would be better to play the part of “regular guys” instead of Feds and only partly because they desperately needed to take their best suits to a hunter-friendly dry cleaner.

Dean sauntered up to the register, where an employee was facing away from them and rearranging a display of flavored lube. He slipped into his most flirtatious persona and cleared his throat.

“Hey there,” he started as the woman began to turn, but then he froze and his eyes widened as he recognized her. All the places they had lived over the years ran together in his head because places weren’t important to him; Dean remembered the _people._ “Rhonda Hurley?”

She blinked at him for a minute before her face broke into a wide smile. “Dean Winchester? I never thought I’d see the day you darkened my doorway again!” Her tone and sly wink belied the harsh words. 

“Me neither!” Dean blurted. “I mean...you look great?” She really did. Rhonda had always been pretty, and her self-confidence only made her even more attractive, and the years had been kind.

“And who is this?” she asked, turning her eyes to Sam. “You two looking for anything in particular?”

Dean spluttered. “This is my brother, Sam.”

Rhonda laughed. “Little mathlete Sammy? You sure did grow _up,_ didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam decided to back away from the awkward reunion but not too far. He hid behind a shelving unit where he could still hear Dean floundering.

“So, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised you work in a place like this, huh?” Dean joked.

“Work here? Honey, I _own_ it.”

“You really get much business in this burg?”

“You’d be surprised. People here act all repressed and vanilla, but they get up to some wild things in the privacy of their own homes, believe me.”

“I hear there’s been some pretty crazy stuff going down in public, too.” Sam had to commend Dean for managing to still think of the case.

“It’s a shame,” Rhonda mused, shaking her head. “Everyone is suspicious of everyone else, and that’s bad news all around, not just for my shop.” She smirked at Dean. “Back to you though, sweet cheeks. Can I help you find something?”

“Uh, no, not really.”

“You sure? I’ve got a nice selection of unmentionables in the back. I seem to recall having some fun with that back in the day. You’re awful pretty in pink. We’ve got everything from silk and lace to leather and chains.”

Dean glanced around furtively, and Sam ducked down. “Not so much anymore,” Dean denied, but Sam could hear the obvious lie. “My needs are pretty basic.”

“Well, I can’t let you leave empty-handed!” she insisted. The brothers ended up leaving with a small tub of chocolate body paint (“Work’s just like a dip, boys.”) and a box of erotically-shaped macaroni and cheese (“Actually not that bad tasting.”).

They hadn’t made any progress in tracking the succubus, but Sam couldn’t be bothered to care, mind fixating on Dean and women’s undergarments.

They did end up killing the succubus, and then Sam couldn’t even pretend that he had something to distract him from thoughts of Dean in panties.

Was he a satin man? Did he like the smooth feel against his skin, the thin fabric clinging to every curve?

Or maybe he liked lace? Not the scratchy kind, but soft material full of small, tantalizing gaps that hinted at everything underneath without giving too much away.

What if Dean was into thongs? What if he liked just enough material to cover what was in front while displaying the perky globes of what Sam had to admit was a mighty fine behind.

Was he into bright colors? Did he prefer classic black like he did for his normal undergarments? Did Dean dare to delve into _pastels?_

It was like torture--kinky, awkwardly arousing torture.

Dean had always been protective of his duffle, so Sam was unlikely to get a chance to paw through it to find Dean’s hidden treasures.

He couldn’t be certain when Dean might wear them, so a random pantsing would be a gamble. He knew from experience that Dean saved his oldest, rattiest boxer briefs for laundry day, so it wouldn’t be then, and if they were staying someplace warm, he slept in boxer briefs and sometimes a shirt, so not then, either. His best guess was that Dean wore them under his suits, when he had to wear slacks that came up to his waist, tucked in his shirt and wore a belt. Sam thought it might be some kind of confidence booster for Dean, too.

Sam hatched a scheme. He would wait until they got back from their next stint playing cops or Feds, and he would strike when Dean went to make himself more comfortable, loosening his tie, and more importantly, his belt.

He didn’t have to wait long before they were impersonating detectives to investigate a possible rugaru. 

Dean never even saw it coming, which really spoke to how exhausted he must be, but it allowed Sam to get a good, long look while Dean just stood there, pants around his ankles, blinking owlishly.

“What the hell?” they both ended up yelling simultaneously.

“What’s the matter with you?” Dean accused, holding his hands in front of his crotch, not that it wasn’t already well-covered. This was not at all like Sam had imagined.

“Seriously, Dean?” he groused. _“Granny panties?”_

Dean flushed to the tips of his ears, glanced down at the full-coverage, white cotton, designed not to ride up women’s underwear, and back up again with a frown. “They are not! These are sensible, comfortable, and supportive!”

_“What?”_

Dean glowered at him. “Like you have any room to talk, anyway! Let he who doesn’t have like twenty different girly hair products cast the first stone, dude.”

“That leave in conditioner keeps me from getting split ends, but that’s not the point.” Sam gestured dramatically at Dean’s groin. “What kind of self-respecting fetishist doesn’t go for something sexy?”

“Maybe it’s not about that.” Dean countered. “Maybe I don’t need to feel sexy or pretty. _Maybe_ I just like how it _feels._ ” Dean looked genuinely offended, and if he was honest, Sam really had no excuse.

“Oh,” he mumbled lamely.

Dean fidgeted, but he didn’t reach to pull the pants back up again. He muttered something so quietly Sam couldn’t make it out.

“What?”

“I _said,_ would you really like it if I got some other ones? More...sexy?” The last word was barely a whisper.

“Are you kidding?” Sam admitted. “I’ve only been imagining you in all manner of options--well, except for the ones you’re in now, of course--ever since I heard you talking to Rhonda.” Dean still seemed embarrassed, and Sam didn’t want to pressure him. “But don’t go out of your way if this is what makes you happy ‘cause that’s what really matters here.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked with a small smile. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“When are our lives _not_ weird?”

Dean bent down to pull up his pants, and Sam thought that would be the end of it, but then Dean smirked and asked him, “Do you have a favorite color?”


End file.
